


Riddle Me Piss

by Midnight_Clover



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Crack, Crack Fic, Gen, Grave Yard Scene, Harry Calling Voldemort "Tom", Harry Potter is a Little Shit, Harry is a Little Shit, John Mulaney References, MBMBaM references, My Brother My Brother and Me References, Voldemort's resurection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:47:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24097546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midnight_Clover/pseuds/Midnight_Clover
Summary: Voldemort's resurrection goes a little differently.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 69





	Riddle Me Piss

Wormtail approached Harry, who scrambled to find his feet fighting to support his own weight before the ropes were untied. Wormtail raised his new silver hand and pulled out the wad of material gagging Harry, and then, with one swipe, cut through the bonds tying Harry to the gravestone. 

There was a split second, perhaps, when Harry might have considered running for it, but his injured leg shook underneath him while he stood on the overgrown grave, Death Eaters closing ranks and forming a tighter circle around him and Tom, so as to fill the gaps left by missing members. Wormtail walked out of the circle of watching Death Eaters. 

“Aw, cute,” Harry said. “You rant to me for the second time about your muggle father just before your little racist followers arrive. Tom, sweetie, do you need to talk about your insecurities more?”

Tom ignored him and, though the Death Eaters didn’t react, Harry guessed they must have been feeling conflicted.

“You have been taught to duel, Harry Potter?” Tom said, bitterness seeping into his tone, his red eyes glinting through the darkness.

“Sure I have,” Harry responded quickly. “Though it’s not a very large display of power to duel a fourteen-year-old with a twisted ankle and a bloody gash in their arm, is it, Tom?”

Tom froze. “Very well then, Harry.” Tom spoke as if he could use Harry’s name against him in the same way Harry was using his. “Let's get you healed.”

Harry smirked as Tom’s spell flashed over him, healing his ankle and the gash in his arm scaring over. “I’m still fourteen. I’ve had barely four years of schooling. How old are you even, Tom? Seventy something? But I suppose I’ll give it a shot!”

Harry bowed, barely bending and keeping his face towards Tom. Tom bowed back, doing the same. Tom raised his wand, and before Harry could do anything to defend himself before he could even move, he had been hit again by the Cruciatus curse. The pain was so intense. White-hot knives were piercing every inch of his skin and he was sure his head was going to burst with the pain; he was screaming more loudly than he’d ever screamed in his life-

And then it stopped. Harry rolled over and scrambled to his feet; he was shaking as uncontrollably as Wormtail had done when his hand had been cut off; he staggered sideways into the wall of watching Death Eaters, and they pushed him away, back towards Tom. 

“Impedimenta!” Harry shouted. Tom, fortunately for Harry, didn’t seem to expect any kind of recovery from the spell, especially not so quickly. 

“Do not move!” Tom shouted to his followers who were twitching to interfere with the duel.

“Good, it would be very unsportsmanlike and a very poor show of your personal power to need help in a duel against a fourteen-year-old.” Harry laughed. “Tell me, if you’re so smart, can you answer my riddle, Riddle?”

“I’m sure I can answer any riddle given to me by a child,” Tom argued.

Harry chuckled. “Hickory Dickory Dock. The mouse ran up the clock. The clock struck one. Then down did come. Hickory Dickory Dock. What am I?”

“A mouse,” Tom answered firmly, rolling his eyes. He’d almost finished loosening his way out of Harry’s impediment hex.

“No, dumb shit!” Harry yelled. “The guillotine!”

Tom broke free from the hex and immediately cast the Cruciatus curse on him again, Harry failed to roll out of the way. Blinding pain cut into him once again, though it didn’t last as long this time.

“Aw, is ickle baby Riddle upset he got the riddle wrong?” Harry asked when the curse let up and he’d staggered to his feet. His muscles felt like he’d cut off the blood flow for a moment, slightly numb. Because his limbs were so shaky, Tom didn’t expect Harry to summersault out of the way of his next curse behind the gravestone before leaping over it and shouting: “Impedimenta!” once again. 

“Hey, Tom, what do you think the ministry would do if I cast an unforgivable on you?” Harry asked. “You’ve already done two to me and they let the Aurors use them during the last war.”

“I imagine they’d snap your wand,” Tom answered with a smirk, untangling himself from the hex quicker this time.

“Really? After using an unforgivable on the fucking dark lord?” Harry asked. “Nah.”

“Oh, and what would you be doing—” Tom tried to remark, slowing his unraveling. 

“You’re a little fat girl aren’t you!” Harry yelled over him.

“No,” Tom answered firmly, even with Harry’s wand now at his throat, though he’d stopped trying to loosen the spell almost entirely now.

Harry threw a slicing charm right at his chest, almost to his throat. “SAY IT!” Harry screamed. 

“I’m a little fat girl,” Tom repeated coldly. None of the Death Eaters laughed, unfortunately. 

Harry ripped Tom’s wand out of his grasp and attempted to throw it over the Death Eaters’ heads. A Death Eater caught it and Harry was thrown backward by a wandless knockback jinx from Tom. His head hit the soft soil painfully. He staggered to his feet once again, but Tom had summoned his wand back to his grasp as Harry swiftly hid behind the gravestone, deciding to stay there this time.

“We’re not playing hide and seek, Harry,” said Tom’s soft, cold voice, drawing nearer. The Death Eaters laughed at that.

“What?” Harry asked, still slightly winded from the crash to the ground. “Remember you’re not actually winning in a duel against a literal child?”

Harry’s brain and time then went to syrup it’s all over before Harry could properly witness it happening. The spells collided, the golden net, his parents, Cedric, the cup, and he’s back crash landing in the middle of the quidditch pitch in front of the crowd. 

He was half sobbing as he clutched the body, but all he could manage to say as a few onlookers came toward him was: “Tom Riddle, aka stupid piss baby Voldemort just didn’t win against a literal child in a duel for the second time in his pitiful little piss baby life.” and he choked out a small laugh in surprise before real tears began finally streaming down his face. It was over. And he was going to sit there with his legs and arms as numb as rocks until Madam Pomphrey took him to the hospital wing in one way or another. 

The sound muffled around him as if his ears were ringing, though they did not. He vaguely heard someone shout that Cedric was dead. Harry thought that perhaps he’d broken his arms one of the times he’d slammed into the ground because it felt the way it had in his second year before Lockhart removed all his bones. 

Moody tried to pull him away, but he refused. Moody tried again, much more forceful this time. Harry, completely unwilling to move with any other than Madam Pomphrey who he knew was there to help any who injured themselves in any task, found himself remembering the only useful piece of information his elderly neighbor Mrs. Figg taught him. She’d lectured him on the different things to shout if an adult was doing anything even remotely close inappropriate near or to him. He tried the first one that she’d said would get him hopefully quite a bit of attention. “FUCK YOU! STOP TOUCHING ME!” 

That did the trick. Moody backed away a step and Madam Pomphrey came sprinting towards him, followed by Professor McGonagall. 

He ignored the world around him, unable to even consider paying attention to it, as he let himself be guided out of the pitch and then levitated on a stretcher up to the hospital wing. 

After swiftly having his remaining injuries healed, he noticed the scar on his arm from Wormtail’s knife vanished, he drank a dreamless sleep potion. The stupid day was finally over. 


End file.
